VVCD The Turning
by VAPX007
Summary: OOC AU A bunch of episodes about a young, jaded semi-vegetarian vampire Count Duckula and his various battles. R&R Requested. Warning: I kill things.
1. PsychoTransmission

_Disclaimer: I do not own Count Duckula. (More's the pity.) _

_A/N: Authorial expertise? What's that? _

_YAY: Count Duckula! __My mind tingles with that familiar taste resounding on the page. Long have I missed it._

_Won't you join me with a duck call at midnight? You'll never know who may answer!_

**_

* * *

_**

**Psycho-Transmission**

**_

* * *

_**

Castle Duckula: Majestic, magnificent ... malevolent.

**_Home for many centuries to the darkest denizens of the night: The Counts of Duckula._**

_**From deep within this dismal place, an evil cackle resounds, echoing down the precipice to the peasant folk residing at the bottom of the hill.**_

* * *

"Yah, I haff done it!" Goosewing shrieked excitedly, "Und, finally, vis zis mein Docktor Von Goosewing patent pending psycho-transmission amplifier, I shall destroy ze foul fiend vonce and fur alles!" Goosewing's teeth glimmered as he grinned at himself in the mirror of his workshop. "Yah, to defeat a wampire, one must first zhink like a wampire! Und vhen I uze zis machine on Count Duckula, zhen, helpless to me he vill be."

* * *

Goosewing walked cautiously down the corridors of Castle Duckula. He had to find Count Duckula before the manservant found him. He turned the corner and crashed into a solid, mountainous object.

"Ooh." Nanny turned around as he stood back up. "Cheeky."

"Uh, excuse me." He looked up at the monstrosity in a maid's outfit. "You haven't seen a wampire 'round here?" He straightened his tie and gripped tightly onto the psycho-transmission amplifier. Then he had an idea. 'If I could have the help of this woman, it would greatly improve my chances at getting to Count Duckula.' "Ahem. I vould like to show you mein transmission unit, mein ... radio. It is most simple to operate, vone just points it at the person and svitches it on like zo."

* * *

Count Duckula was raiding the fridge, too hungry once again to wait for dinner. "Oo, carrot juice." He grabbed the small bottle and pulled off the top. He took a swig and spat it back out. "That's not c-carrot juice!" He raced to the sink, and began gulping down a copious amount of water. Once he'd recovered from his horror, he turned around. "IGOR!" He screamed at the top of his voice.

Igor appeared shortly from around the door frame.  
"That was a cheap trick, Igor. Really low."  
"Alas, it is true; I am reduced to mediocrity, in my attempts to return my master to his former glory."  
"Oh, you're so poetic, Igor. That's not getting you out of this one."  
"Of course not sir." Igor's eyes glimmered with a shard of hope.

But instead, Count Duckula's mind drifted elsewhere. "Hey, have you seen Nanny around today?" Duckula listened; "I don't hear anything breaking."  
"Well, there is very little left for her to break, sir." Igor, the faithful manservant always obliged his master's topics of conversation.  
"That's true; except for the portraits, and the cobwebs, and that silly hall of mirrors."  
"I can't imagine why you let that dreadful man do such a thing."  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time. But where is Nanny, anyway?"

Igor cursed under his breath. If he couldn't make his master a vampire, couldn't he at least make him a hot-tempered monster? That was why he had replaced the carrot juice with blood. Only when the young master was angry was he at his most savage. Duckula moved off, his mind set to locating his doting, dotty Nanny. Igor suppressed a sigh, and dutifully followed.

* * *

After about five minutes, Duckula turned a corner and crashed into Nanny. He straightened his beak. "Oh, there you are, Nanny." Nanny didn't turn around. "Nanny? Nanny!"  
She shook, and turned, "Oh, Duckyboos."

"Dammerunt. Was ist loss mit meine machine ...?" Duckula skirted a bit around Nanny, his eyes widened.  
"Goosewing!"  
Goosewing's expression was keen. "Yah, das ist correct, you fiend! Und, take zis!"

Goosewing zapped Duckula with the weapon before Igor could get past Nanny in the narrow corridor to protect him.  
"Master!" Igor grabbed Duckula before he crumpled to the floor. He was still whole; that was something at least.

"Ugh, what ... happened?" The count was standing back on his feet now.  
"Your threats are futile, Doctor von Goosewing." Igor growled. "The Duckula's have always been resilient against the slayers. And you have still to deal with me, as yet!"

Goosewing gulped, not willing to take the threat of Igor unprepared, he turned and ran. He was never prepared to take on Igor.

"Wait a minute!" Duckula said in alarm. Then he raced after the slayer. "Hold it, hold everything ... wait just a minute!" Igor heard him yelling into the distance, the front door slammed.

"What's this?" Igor picked up Goosewing's weapon.  
"That doctor van whats-it called it a radio, Mr. Igor. But I didn't 'ear nothin' when he turned it on."

Igor frowned. Just because it didn't work on Nanny's brain, didn't mean it hadn't worked on the vegetarian vampire's brain. "Yes," he reviewed his analysis, "I do believe this is a delta wave amplifier." His eyes narrowed in thought. "But what would it do to a vampire?" No, strike that. What would a subliminal messaging device do to an insanely arrogant but still impressionable young vegetarian vampire, who hardly had begun to tap into the strength of his vampire abilities?

* * *

Count Duckula was puffed, as he sank back against the rocks at the bottom of the mountain. For an old goose, the slayer was sure fast on his feet.

"I resolve to get more fit." Duckula announced to himself. "Now where is that miscreant troublemaker? He never leaves me alone! I was happy, I was ... well, I wouldn't call myself content, being cooped up everyday in the castle with Igor and Nanny, but ..." He rubbed his head. He turned as something in his mind was prickling. Cave, in there. He headed towards it and went in.

* * *

Goosewing sure had himself set up in plenty of places. Duckula gazed around. There were beakers of this and appliances for that.  
"Ha, I've got you now you fiend, wizout Igor to protect you!"  
Duckula leapt forwards and yanked the weapon out of Goosewing's hands before he could finish aiming it. "What did you do to me, you monster?"  
"I am not ze monster, you are."  
"I am ..." Duckula's eyes glazed over. "Why am I a monster? No, I'm not." He shook his head slightly.  
"Yah, you! You are an undead wampire of ze night! You drink blood, you are a monster."  
"I drink ..." Duckula's eyes glazed over again. "I ..." He struggled again, "No! I don't ... drink ..."

"I've never ..." Goosewing tried to make sense of the other's struggle. Was a vampire that didn't drink blood even possible? Duckula's eyes glazed over again. "I drink blood?"  
"Ach, mein Gott!" The psycho-transmitter had actually worked and so convinced that Goosewing was that he'd successfully convinced Duckula as well.

"I drink ... blood."  
"N-nein, I meant ..." Goosewing struggled in the Count's grip, only now he realised the difference. He watched long fangs extend from the vampire's beak, before he was dragged even closer.  
"I must ... drink ... blood." Duckula's face showed a final internal struggle against the psychological imperative that Goosewing had forced on him, before he lowered his head to Goosewing's neck.


	2. The Turning

****

**The Turning**

* * *

Even under the directive, Duckula's throat constricted with the iron taste.

But this time, unlike Igor's bottled stores, it was hot and it was spicy. 'You drink blood.' The imperative echoed, insisting for him to swallow. The second swallow was easier. 'You are a monster.' The mental voice enforced on him. 'Drink the blood.' By the third swallow, the gag reflex was gone. The fourth swallow and he was actually enjoying the spiciness. Duckula withdrew his fangs, opened his mouth, pulled away. No way; monster he may be, drink blood, obviously, but he had no reason to kill. He released his hold of Goosewing and stepped back.

"Go away, Goosewing." Duckula begged.

Duckula's nerves twitched and he slammed his foot down on top of the vampire laser gun in time. Goosewing dove for the weapon at their feet.  
"Zis iz ze proof, you vant." Goosewing yanked at the trapped weapon. "Mein ..."

"No!" Duckula grabbed his shoulder and dragged him back to stand. "You did this to me." He shook the slayer; suddenly he had the strength to do it with.  
"Ya, das ist still proof."

Duckula grabbed both his shoulders. "I didn't ... you're still alive!"  
"Mein Gott." Goosewing's heart was pounding as Duckula gripped him. "Do not, please, not ... I am ... ze shame, I could not bear."  
"I ... What shame?"  
Goosewing didn't answer.

"Mein veapon, and I vill destroy you."  
Duckula gaped at him. "You'll chase me for the rest of your life, won't you?"  
"Zat ist mein job."  
"Do you understand what my job is?" Duckula yelled at his captive hysterically. He took a breath. Was it his imagination or had the raving vampire hunter's blood gone straight to his head?  
"Ya." Goosewing struggled in his continuing grip. "I beg you not ... do not, please, not a vampire."  
"I ... I'll put you out of your misery." Duckula pulled the goose closer. "That's all."

* * *

Duckula lowered the body to the ground and a feeling of disconnection filled him. "What have I done?" Numbly, he considered the bite marks he'd made, the bloodless corpse he'd left. Evidence; he'd read enough detective books to know that the next person to find this cave would soon also discover the vampire that lived at the top of the hill.

They would; unless he did something to fix it. Duckula looked around at the equipment, the beakers and the chemicals. He'd never taken a chemistry lesson, but he could read the labels that stated 'combustible'. Promptly he picked up two bottles and threw them at the flammable wooden furniture. The cave was ablaze in an instant. Duckula vacated, feeling much safer.

* * *

Duckula got back up the mountain to his home. He looked numbly about. "Food. All that uphill walking's made me hungry." He muttered, and made his way to the kitchen.

"Yum, broccoli." He snatched the green head of broccoli from the fridge and chomped into it. He finished that off, and then looked for something else. "Oo, carrot juice." He grabbed the opened bottle, and chugged the contents down. "That's not carrot juice." He put the empty bottle in the bin. "I wonder if there's any tomato salsa left." He delved into the fridge again and located the spicy tomato dip.

"Master, I wasn't aware that you had returned." Igor pronounced solemnly from the doorway behind him.

"Well, that's why I'm the master, I don't have to know everything you're doing, and you don't have to know everything I'm doing, coo-coo-ca-choo." Duckula quirked flatly. "Anyway, I'm done in here."

"Sir, are you feeling alright?" Duckula didn't reply and simply kept walking. Igor chased after him. "Sir, that machine that Goosewing zapped you with, it's ..."  
"Where is it?" Duckula turned around on the stair landing, his attention finally on Igor.  
"Well, here, it's ..."

Duckula snatched it and smashed it on the railings. "Good. Thanks Igor, I needed that." He handed the shattered mechanism back to his manservant. "I'm going to take a nap." The Count headed up the next flight of stairs. "I've had enough for one day."

"When should I tell Nanny to prepare dinner for you?"  
"No, I really think I've had enough for one day, Igor, thank you."

* * *

Duckula dressed for bed. It wasn't quite evening yet, but he needed to be alone. He looked out his window, watching the smoke cloud tapering out into the sky. "Blood in my mouth." He shuddered. "I drink blood." It was a horrible thing to realise; he really was the black-hearted villain of the night, the thing all others feared.

He continued to watch the smoke. There'd be another slayer, probably not so bumbling to replace Goosewing. "Well, thank goodness for that. At least I don't have to worry about that side of things." His eyes teared up. "I consider myself thwarted. Goosewing, ze greatest wampire hunter in ze vorld, hast finally done it." All Duckula's good intentions were destroyed. All his hopes, his dreams to be welcomed and appreciated in the wider community were shattered. None of it was possible any more. He shut the curtain on the smoke.

"I am Count Duckula." He yawned. "Last but not least in a long line of vampire ducks." He snuggled into the bed, finding comfort in the pillow. Foul, though it might be, at least he had company in this outcast state. Sure his vampire ancestors were dead, but at least they were still company.

* * *

For two nights in a row, Duckula didn't sleep very well.

'I drink blood' The notion plagued him, but not half as much as the taste that, thanks to Goosewing, was no longer bad at all. And the taste didn't haunt him half as much as his mortification, or was it guilt? Or ... no, it was more like simple sadness.

Someone was dead.

It wasn't right, and he had to do something to make it at least a little better.

It wasn't morning yet as he dressed himself in the farmer clothes that he had from his previous excursions into the peasant world. He looked down, assessing his outfit. This was perfect, considering he'd be going into an unspeakable charcoaled nightmare. He grabbed his gardening gloves.

* * *

Duckula considered the vegetable garden. The perennials had seeded and shriveled, leaving a weary patch of weeds and emptiness. This was the best place. He picked up the shovel, and began digging.

It was shortly before sunrise when he went inside, looking for the wheelbarrow and met up with Nanny.

"Good morning, Nanny."  
"Oh, Duckyboos. Come and have your breakfast. It's cereal this morning."  
"Cereal?" He blinked at her in astonishment. "A sandwich would be more appropriate for lunch, Nanny. I'll be in the garden if you need me." Well ... give him enough time, and then he'd be back in the garden.

Duckula took the wheelbarrow and translocated to the base of the mountain. He blinked. "How the heck do I do that, anyway?" He shrugged and advanced on the cave.

Like he expected, the rocks were blackened, the furniture was charcoal and there lay the body burnt beyond recognition. Nobody would trace it back to a vampire, but that wasn't enough.

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry this happened. I never wanted to hurt you. I ..." He caught a sob in his throat. He shook his head. "Let me give you rest at last." He picked up the corpse and put it into the wheelbarrow. He closed his eyes, and translocated back to the garden. He wheeled it over and moved the body gently into the deep hole. Then he picked up the shovel and refilled the remaining space with the mound of dirt.

"Rest and peace ... for one of us at least." He closed his eyes. He listened to the morning cockcrow from the valley. The stirring sounds of daybreak gave him a sense of tranquility that he hadn't had since all this had begun. In this moment, it really did feel like 'rest' and 'peace'.

Duckula picked up the small jar of last year's seeds and a watering can. He knelt down beside the freshly turned earth and continued on with the last part of his job.

* * *

"Oo, Mr. Igor. I'm at my wit's end with him."

"What has happened to the young master?" Day in night out, he woke and he slept, out of schedule, out of routine. Igor wasn't so much asking Nanny, as asking himself. "What is it this time?"  
"Well, he won't have his cereal."  
"Did he mention why?"  
"No, he just shrugged and said 'A sandwich would be more appropriate for lunch, Nanny' and then he walked off."

"He's been up early again, I take it. Where is he now?"  
"E' said 'e'd be out in the garden." Igor grimaced. He hated that word with a passion. He hated fresh air; he hated everything about the very idea of gardening.

He sighed. "Come along, Nanny."

* * *

Out in the garden, they found Count Duckula on his hands and knees, digging up dirt like a common farmer.

"Sir! I must object to this!"  
Duckula looked up at him, "Hmm? What's that Igor?" Igor gazed at him in despair. The youth was also dressed like a common farmer. Duckula looked down at himself. "Well, I didn't want to get my cape dirty, did I?"

"That's a good boy." Nanny commended, adding, once again to Igor's horror and frustration.  
"Sir, this is peasant work. A Duckula should not be ..."

"Well, it's not as bad as all that when you don't have someone cursing you every five minutes. It's actually even kinda peaceful." Once again, the youth and Igor were failing to see eye to eye.

Surely, if Igor couldn't insight anger, he could at least herald some sense of nobility in the errant young duck? "Sir, I must insist you come inside. What would your dear bloodthirsty father say?"  
"He wouldn't say anything because he's dead." Duckula said blankly. "And when he died, he just left a pile of dust that had no call to being put into anything as elaborate as a grave. Now that I come to think of it, I don't want to be dumped into anything as elaborate as a grave when I die either." Duckula walked past them, taking off his gardening gloves.

"He's come over mighty peculiar." Nanny observed. "E's just a young whipper-snapper, he shouldn't be talkin' abou' death."

* * *

A few days and nights later, life was almost back to normal for the Count, except for his memory on the things that he had done. He felt himself irrevocably condemned from his life's ambitions.

Duckula was fidgeting in the chair by the fireside, arguing in what had become a futile and endless battle between mental states, pitting depression and boredom against indignation and fury.

Somewhere between eight am and nine pm, Duckula realised what was happening to him. "I'm going mad! I've got to get out of here ... I'll get myself a book to read. That'll do the trick." Duckula raced down to the dungeons and stepped into the coffin component of Castle Duckula's transportation mechanism.

#"I'm lonely and bored, sitting stuck in round one,  
Get me to the crowded streets of London."#

With that, the mechanism whirred, the clock jangled, and the castle disappeared from the Transylvanian landscape.

* * *

_**And so, dear readers ... **_

_**As the pub goers look up through the window and shrug to see the absence of Castle Duckula and then go about their drunken caterwauling ... **_

_**Once again we say: Goodnight out there ... **_

_**Whatever you are.**_


	3. A Scream in the Dark

_A/N: Sequentially, this occurs at about the same time as chapter three..._

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Scream in the Dark**

**_

* * *

_**

Far away from the Transylvanian Alps, an ancient city greets the night.

**_This is no ordinary city, however; this is Berne, epicenter of Switzerland. _**

**_But tonight, masked by the hum of nighttime activity, a feminine scream goes unnoticed..._**

* * *

Emily raced down the street and turned into an alleyway. She tripped up on the uneven ground. She twisted about, staggering back to a stand.

"No, no! Get away from me!" She screamed, seeing her pursuer turning into the alleyway. She turned and ran again, scrambling up the wire fencing at the end, and climbing up onto the roof of the two story building. The dark silhouette in the alleyway walked to the fire exit stairs and started to climb up.

Emily screamed. She looked around madly, and then pulled a loose tile away from the roof. "Take this!" She flung it at her pursuer, it hit him dead centre and he fell off the stairs onto the ground below. Emily sighed in a moment of relief, and climbed over to the other side of the roof. With some difficulty she managed to get back onto solid ground.

"This guy, I can't get rid of him." She started to run as fast as she could. "I hide, he finds me ... I'm out of places to disappear to!"

* * *

Emily stopped running, staring around her on the busy street. She took a breath to calm the nervous tension that months of being chased had created within her.

She approached the big city pub on the corner of an empty street. She stepped inside. Several sets of eyes turned to her, raking hungrily over her body as she stepped up to the bar.

"What's a pretty girl like you doin' in a roughneck place like this?"  
"Hi, I'm looking for ... Moe."  
"That's me, Moe in the know. What information do you need?"  
"The whereabouts of ..." She hesitated, looking around the room.  
"S'okay, we're all friends in here, ain't we, fellahs?" The whole pub roared in response.

"Well, I'm glad to have so many strong men around willing to help me." She turned to face her audience. "Tell me, who's capable of taking on Von Ganderak?" The pub audibly gasped, and all the rowdy men averted their eyes. "Come on! What are you made of?"

* * *

She clenched her beak, and then shouted. "Come on, you pathetic bunch of vampires, it's just one slayer!" The room was silent. Emily's eyes filled with tears.

"Look, girly, I'll tell you this: ain't no vampire gonna go after a slayer. That's the rule, that's what they're there for. You gotta be a nutball to take on a slayer, and you likely ain't gonna be around afterwards to regret it."

"But I didn't do anything, and he's after me! Surely there's gotta be some vampire out there ... somewhere who'll stand his ground against Ganderak. I don't care how crazy he is if he can help me!"

"Well, if you don't mind crazy, there's one vampire that fits that duck bill." Moe picked up a glass and started polishing it.  
"Ach, ye not talking about Him, Moe?" Emily looked at the curly haired customer.  
"I am indeed, Curly."  
"What's the matter with Him? Is he really evil?" Emily pulled a face.  
"Not this last century, he ain't been."  
"Then that's a good thing." Emily resolved.  
"He's a slow starter." Curly commented.  
Moe scoffed. "That don't make a lick of difference to any of us, now, do it?"

"Who is this person?"  
Moe gazed at her. "Count Duckula." Moe picked up another glass. "He had a slayer on him for ages, and just a few days ago, pfft."  
"Pfft?"  
"He done his biscuit." Curly explained. "Vanished, finito! Duckula's first bite and the slayer's last breath."  
"Impressive." Emily blinked in amazement. A slayer on the first go?

"Real nice clean up, too, considering he didn't let his manservant in on it."  
"Man-manservant?"  
"Count, he's Count Duckula."  
"I always thought those pedigree vampires were a bit pathetic." Emily blushed.  
"Well, a bit. But it ain't everyday that a slayer disappears off the radar, and there was only one vampire in the vicinity."

"It could've been someone else then, a non-vampire."  
"I track slayers for a living, girlie." Curly said. "The instant he disappeared, I hot-winged it over there. It was Count Duckula setting fire to that cave. It was Count Duckula that walked out of there as calm as any normal vampire after a nice long feed."

Emily licked her beak in a subliminal response. "Hey, Moe, what've you got on tap there?" She asked as she pulled out her purse. "All this stuff about eating is making me peckish."

* * *

Von Ganderak staggered to a stand, looking up at the roof of the house.

"Mein Gott." He cursed. "Sie has escaped me again, zhat wile wampirical wixen." He cursed at her. "You shall not escape me for alles, meine kleine duck." He picked up his vampirometer. He looked at the indicators. No vampire in the vicinity. "Nein, I am too late!" He took a breath, tucking it into his coat. "But you cannot hide for alles, meine liebchen. Und zhen, you shall be ze one zhat ist late." He balled his fists and trekked out of the alleyway.

* * *

_**And so we leave busy Berne, w**__**ith growling in the backstreets and caterwauling in the pubs, with a reminder for you all ... **_

_**Don't forget to lock your doors and windows before you go to bed. **__**You never know who may come looking for you. **_

_**Goodnight out there … Whatever you are!**_


	4. MetroNightmare

_A/N: "Wampires? Wampires? No no-no-no, not me." - Von Goosewing_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Metro-Nightmare**

* * *

_**London, England: the home base of a once staggering vast empire of duckdom. **_

_**Even now, evil walks the streets of this eerily efficient economical hub.**_

* * *

"I can't believe all these clothes shops."  
"Ugh, yes sir, I agree. These people have no sense of dignity in fashion."

"Judging by the look of that ..." Duckula pointed at a mannequin, quirking in a flat voice, "I don't think those two words can coexist in the same sentence." He continued on. "Come on you two, it can't be too hard to find a bookstore. These people are British, after all."

* * *

"Oh, you've found something as well, Igor?" Duckula felt much happier with his small stack of detective books.

"Yes, sir, it's really quite of interest to me."  
Duckula looked away, trying not to start worrying about the evil vulture's topic of choice for today. His mind had already conjured: 'How to maintain your torture equipment'. He placed the stack on the counter, but before he could take out his money purse, the store clerk screamed. He dove down, his heart pounding. Dear god, was there a mirror in here that he hadn't seen? He looked up, looked around. Round mirrors, indeed were in the store. They relayed every angle back to the clerk.

"Wait a second; I'm not ... going to eat you." He stood back up, looking at the shaking woman behind the till. "I just ... want my books."

* * *

The door jangled before she could find any words to use with her opening and shutting mouth. A man came in, and he shoved Duckula aside.

He waved a gun. "Oi, you, open up the till."  
"I can't, I ... have to ring up a sale."  
"Well, what's this, a laundry list?" He tossed the top book from Duckula and Igor's stack at her. Shaking, she scanned it and opened the till.

"No, you do not!" Count Duckula glared at the thug, who merely pointed the gun at him now.  
"Uh, master, let me." Igor tried to get in the middle of it.  
"Nah, I wanna take this guy on." The thug kicked Igor forcefully away. "Scrawniest piece of dandy I ever saw."

"I take it you haven't met many vampires." Duckula pointed at an anti-theft shop mirror. "We don't tend to put on much weight."  
"It's just a trick of the light."  
"But of course it is." Duckula glared at him. The thug backed away from the counter. Duckula advanced. The thug pointed the weapon shakily at Duckula again.

Then he pointed the weapon at the shop keeper. "Don't; I'll blast her."  
"Don't do that!" Duckula stepped back appalled, "you'll get blood everywhere. Y-yuck."  
"Master ..."  
"Not now, Igor ... ack, no!" The thug took the distraction and pelted out of the shop. "He's getting away!" Duckula raced out after him.

* * *

Duckula stopped dead in front of the store, the door jangling as it closed behind him. Running after him was not an option. The crowd was too thick. He scanned the area, seeing the thug make off into the distance and dart down an alleyway.

With a slice of atmospheric electricity, he translocated into the mouth of the alleyway.

"Hello?" He called down the alleyway, "I was talking to you."  
"I'll shoot you, don't you come any nearer." The thug took the weapon in both hands. He was sweating, the fear beating adrenalin through his system.

Adrenalin ... Big kick ... Duckula licked his beak ... "I don't like those options, how about a third one?"

"Why are you following me?"  
"I dunno ..." Duckula shrugged. "I guess a running buffet attracts more attention." He translocated beside the thug and grabbed his fists with the weapon. The gun clattered to the ground.

Duckula grimaced. "You're too tall!" He kicked the thug in the stomach, sending him flying into the side of the building. The knocked out criminal sank bodily to the ground. "Much better." Amidst his rising hunger, Duckula felt his teeth slide out, as he approached his unconscious victim.

* * *

He drew back. "Despite the fanfare Igor gives it, this is a rather unsophisticated activity." He stood up, looking around him. "What a mess I've made of everything." He sighed, the alleyway was already a jumble of garbage, but he'd just added a loaded gun and a corpse. He kicked the weapon towards the body, and decided to go home.

He approached his castle, parked on the green. "Shoo!" He snapped at the line of gawkers. "The wax works museum is that way!" He glared at them as they shuffled off, then he stalked inside and slammed the front door.

* * *

His eyes filled with tears. "All I wanted was a book. Am I so doomed to immortal sufferance that I'm not even permitted the briefest period of unreality?" He sighed and sank into the armchair. The castle was empty and silent. Like his whole life.

While he'd been chasing the ... he admitted it ... silly dream of fame and fortune, he hadn't given himself the opportunity to get too far down into depression. "Oh, no. I couldn't just be a normal person. I had to be a vampire." He complained to no one.

This was the second person he'd killed now. The police would find the body, and they'd call out another vampire hunter for him. Strangely, the thought relieved him. "At least I don't have to worry about those sorts of things."

The effect of the adrenalin was wearing off, and he drifted off into a doze in the chair.

* * *

Sometime later, he woke to the sound of Nanny's voice in the hall.

"Oh, Mr. Igor, where's he gone? We can't just leave him here in this dreadful place."  
"Nanny, it's not up to me, the return mechanism ..." Duckula's ears pricked as just at that moment, the clock mechanism triggered.

Duckula wasn't sure who to thank for that, but at least he was going home.

_Dawn, eastern standard Transylvanian time..._

* * *

_**And so, dear readers, as Castle Duckula returns to its rightful place, looming over the precipice...**_

_**As the villagers below wake up to a new dawn...**_

_**And as the dark denizens of the night retire for the day...**_

_**We can at last say Goodnight out there ... Whatever you are.**_


	5. Cursed

**Cursed**

* * *

**_Large and looming above its surrounds stands Castle Duckula._**

**_This is the dreaded home to the last in a long line of vampire barons, Count Duckula._**

**_Shards of light from the rising sun cause this spectral sight to shimmer in the silent dawn._**

* * *

Igor set the stack of books onto the desk in the study. He picked up the one that he'd bought. 'A Practical Guide for the Modern Day Vampire' and tucked it under his arm. He was intrigued, and it might prove useful.

"What are ... you doing, Igor?" The young master came into the room, suppressing a yawn.

Igor was relieved to see the reluctant vampire had returned to the Castle after the bookstore incident. "Milord, it has been a somewhat ... long night, perhaps you're ready for bed?" Well, it'd be nice for him to be ready for his coffin, but that was a minor detail. The sun was rising and he'd technically been up all night. Igor couldn't help but grin. One nocturnal habit might eventually graduate up to the next. Give the youth a few more decades, perhaps; Igor's grin turned into a sigh.

Duckula finally answered; "no, I'm fine ..." He moved across the room to the window to review the rising sun. Igor watched the light intensify in the room, Duckula standing silent in the sunbeam. He just stood there looking outside. He was a vegetarian vampire duck; the only Duckula since the original turning so many centuries ago to be able to do this.

* * *

Igor felt a shred of concern as Duckula remained staring out for an excessively long time.

"Milord? Are you alright?"  
Duckula turned, facing him. "I'm bored, Igor!" He exploded quite suddenly in response. "Be-oh-rr-eh-de; bored! I'm sick of this stupid castle, I'm sick of returning to this stuffy old place every morning, I'm sick of those rotten villagers, I can't make a decent conversation between the lot of them! Every time I try to escape, fate comes in and stops me. Why is it, Igor? Is it because I happen to be a vampire? Then why aren't I dust? If I wasn't a vampire, would I still be stuck here? Would I still be standing here casting a shadow into the room, thinking 'kill me, I'm so bored'?"

"Milord!" Igor wracked his brain, looking for a way out of the disconsolate mood his master was in. He went over to the world globe, standing in the corner. "Surely there's more treasure in the world out there to go hunting for?"  
"What's the use?"  
"Well ... what could you do with such money?"  
"I've already tried doing up the castle. I've tried selling the castle. I've tried buying a condo in France. I've tried television, I've tried painting, I've tried, I've tried, I've tried everything! And before you ask, Igor, I've tried that too."  
"Very well, Milord, perhaps you could tell me what you haven't tried?" Igor returned his eyes to the globe. He didn't know himself, the rest of his life had been spent finding his masters' victims and committing wanton acts of violence.

It was a long moment. "There's nothing wrong with the castle."  
"I'm gratified to hear you say so, Milord."  
"It's me that's cursed."  
Igor gritted his teeth. The curse, the curse, the vampire curse. "You are standing in a sun beam, sir. You are standing in the light."  
"So what? That only makes me even more cursed than my ancestors. That just means there's no magic left in the world to take me out of it."

* * *

He might change his tune if Von Goosewing came at him with a stake ... "How about a good book, sir?"

"I've tried that."  
"But, surely ..." Igor stepped towards the table. "Surely you haven't read all the books in the world? You seemed quite happy last night with that idea. If you were not interested, why did you buy them?"  
"Igor, I didn't get to buy them."

"When you ... went to apprehend the criminal, I took the liberty to get them for you in your absence." The way that Duckula had chased after him, glorious, how it took him back. The Duckula's always loved a good chase. Maybe that latent mentality was finally dawning within the vegetarian's head.

Duckula looked at the stack again. "You ... you did?"

"Yes, Milord."  
Duckula was shaking. "Thank you, Igor! Thank you so much! Igor, I could kiss you!"  
Igor veered away from the other. The count was so appreciative that it frightened Igor more than he cared to admit. "Uh, perhaps not, Milord. I'll be downstairs if you need me; it has been a long night. And I fear I do not have your youthful wakefulness at this hour of the day. Will that be all that you require?"  
"Gosh, yes, this is all I want. Thank you!"

* * *

At this moment Nanny called. "Duckyboos! Won't you come and have your breakfast?"  
"No, Nanny, I don't want any breakfast thank you, I'm not hungry." Duckula grabbed the top book from the pile and sat down in his chair behind the desk.  
"But ... sir, you should eat something. You've been up all night."  
"I'm not hungry, Igor. I'm fine, you go take a nap." And Duckula was silent into his book.


	6. A Busy Day

_A/N: "Now we get to the important bit, Milord ... you are a vampire." - Igor_

* * *

**A Busy Day**

* * *

At present, the Count had gone on hiatus from the travelling game. He contended to read the books that Igor had dutifully collected from the store.

Igor approached him in the study with some ... yuck; carrot juice.

There were two positive things that struck Igor about the stuff. Firstly, the procedure it took to wring the vegetable of its vital juices was quite violent and labour intense. The second was that, however inedible the master found Nanny's cooking, carrot juice was a thing he always relished.

At this present stage Igor was not prepared to carry anything but his master's much favoured juice. The manservant's true fear was that if his master continued to subsist on nothing, he would fade away into dust.

* * *

Igor knocked on the door.

There was a moment, "... Enter." Duckula looked up from the table. Books, both old and new, surrounded him.

"Aperitif?"  
Count Duckula blanched. "What?" He dove under the desk.  
Igor approached. "Milord, what are you doing under the desk?"  
"I ... uh ..." Duckula got back up. He straightened, attempting to regain some dignity. "What's that you've got there, Igor?" Igor held out the tray and Duckula hesitated. Then he took the goblet without looking at Igor. "Thanks." He put the untouched goblet down on the desk. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

Igor blinked at him and once again asked his question. "Sir, is everything alright?"  
Duckula finally looked at him. "Just as abnormal as everything usually is." Duckula sat back down and opened the book on his table.  
"Shall I tell Nanny to prepare an afternoon maiden for you?" Igor quipped.  
"No, I'm not really hungry today, thanks, Igor. Tell her she can have a week off. You too, Igor." He really wasn't listening, and Igor was worried.

"Sir, I hardly think that's a good idea! If Doctor Von Goosewing shows up again ..."  
"I may not be so lucky next time, so what? That's not going to stop me living my life."  
"Or unlife?"  
"O-or unlife."  
"Are you at least going to drink it, Milord?" Igor was woeful at the prospect of leaving Duckula for three days, let alone a week. Given his current strange behaviours and lack of appetite the young master may well not eat anything and that would not be good for him.

"I will drink it when I'm ready. Thank you, Igor, that'll be all." Igor gripped the tray tightly and departed the study. He shut the door and lowered his eyes to the keyhole. Duckula grabbed the goblet and swallowed the juice in one gulp. 'Thank darkness'. Igor watched the Count close the book he had open when talking to Igor and take out another one from the stacks. Igor saw a flash of the title before Duckula laid it out onto the desk.

**Lore of the D**

Igor stepped back from the door in a spasm of shock. How many times had he attempted to entice the vegetarian to read that book? And here he was reading it, trying to keep it secret from Igor! He ground his teeth together, wringing his hands. 'Oh, master, how could you not trust me?'

Igor collected his self-discipline and walked down the stairs. He intended to fetch Nanny from her duties, as the master had requested. "Very well," Igor resolved to himself, "We shall go on holiday, and He shall read about his vampire heritage."

Yes, now Igor knew exactly what the young vampire was up to, and if he had to shut his beak in order for the Count to follow the path into darkness, then he would oblige. If that's what it took, that's what he'd do. The danger wasn't too excessive, he decided. Igor always kept the fridge stocked with blood, and it would only be a week before Igor resumed his guard for his feathered prince of darkness.

* * *

Duckula stayed immersed in the vampire books, keen on learning the tricks of the trade. He looked up some hours later. "Did he say 'afternoon maiden'?" He blinked, the words finally settling in. Igor's monotone voice made any sentence sound pretty much like the next. To make things even more difficult, Duckula was preoccupied and hadn't been listening.

He shook his head. No matter; he wasn't interested in playing games right now anyway. He stepped back from the desk. "Alright, let's try for a bat." He'd never done that one before, and it could be useful. With some intense concentration, he turned himself into a bat. He fluttered for a while, getting used to the effort of wings. Then the front door banged. He circled around the room and flew through the open study door, down the corridors and returned to duck shape in the hall.

The door banged again.  
"Who on earth could be knocking on my door?" He grabbed the latch to the smaller door within the larger one and swung it open.

"Hi, I'm Robert. This is my wife Maria and our son Bobby. Our car broke down ..."  
"That happens a lot around here."  
"And the locals said you had rooms that we could use for the night."  
"Sure, I have plenty of rooms." Duckula considered his empty castle. Goodness knows why anyone would actually need such a gigantic place. "You can't go anywhere without going through a room ..." He quirked flatly and moved aside for the small family to come in.

"You live by yourself?"  
"No, my staff are on holiday."  
"Oh." Maria nudged Robert, "he lives by himself."

Duckula heaved as he picked up the giant suitcases. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Duckula apologised as he dumped the suitcases on the ground in front of the guest rooms. "I'm afraid they're not exactly prepared. Usually I'd get Nanny to organise them for you."

"Hey, Count." He looked down as the child exploded bubblegum from out of his mouth at Duckula. "Have you always been a crazy nutter?"  
"Bobby, that's not very nice. Apologise to our nice host."  
"Sorry." The child begrudged the apology.

Duckula let his anger drift away before it properly surfaced. "I'll go get something ready for dinner. Of course, if Nanny was here, I'd get her to do it." He turned and walked away.

"... I wonder how they're getting on."

* * *

Count Duckula paced his study as the family slept, recalling the dinner episode.

_His arduous experience at the Hardluck Hotel had taught him a few tricks and this was one of them. He'd looked up from putting the last dish on the table as Bobby appeared at the dining room door._  
_"There's no meat." The child had grizzled as soon as he saw the food that Duckula had painstakingly organised onto the dining table. _  
_"No. That's because I'm a vegetarian." He explained, glaring at the child. "But if it'll make you happy, I can go out and kill a cow for you and bring it back up to the Castle. You don't mind if it's a bit raw, do you, Bobby?" The child then gulped and sat properly in his chair, and didn't bother Duckula again._

_The parents came in shortly afterwards. They sat down and began serving themselves. Duckula watched the people pick meagrely at the spread. It was both novel and nerve-wracking as they'd all sat at the table, having a conversation about everything but vampires. _

_But the other thing that caught on Duckula's mind came after Maria's words: "Now, I am very concerned."_  
_"How's that, Maria?" He had asked the wife. _  
_"You shouldn't spend so much time up here all alone. You should go out and join the world."_

_"I tried that. It didn't work. At least my Castle stays faithful to me. At least my Castle doesn't tell me I'm not good enough."_  
_The woman shook her head in response and said: "That's a pity. You seem like such a nice young duck to lock yourself up like this."_

The fools had come all the way up here to a renowned vampire's lair. If Maria even knew what he was remotely capable of, she would not have used the word 'nice'. Even now, Duckula was in sheer disbelief. The only person he knew in his whole life that properly fit the description of 'nice' was his Nanny. And between Nanny and him on the scale of 'nice', there were plenty of people without fangs.

"I am Count Duckula. The last in a long line of vampire ducks." He moved over to his abandoned book. He was a vegetarian that drank blood. He rubbed his head; that sure wasn't in any of the books handed down from his ancestors that he'd read so far. Also, what about the effects of sunlight? On every mention, sunlight killed. A vampire he was, but clearly a very unusual sort.

He yawned and went to bed.

* * *

Duckula said a relieved goodbye to the family the next morning, and went back to his study. He sat there staring at the book, unable to concentrate. It was infuriating.

Duckula stormed down the stairs and began searching the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of blood.  
"I'm in a bad mood." He considered the stove. "I could probably heat it up."  
He sighed. "I shouldn't have sent Igor and Nanny away." With one hand around the neck of the bottle he reached into the cupboard with the other.

He stared at the saucepan in his hand. "I bet they're in a lovely sunny place with lots of palm trees and ..." His eyes glazed over. He licked his beak on the memory; "and fresh hot blood." He put the saucepan back. "Not this cold preserved stuff." He put the bottle back into the fridge. It was simply no longer good enough.

"No, I'm going to make my luck turn around. I am Count Duckula and I ..." He chuckled, a plan forming in his mind. He licked his beak again. "I'd better get my raincoat."

**_

* * *

_**

As a lone bat emerges from the depths of Castle Duckula and disappears into the horizon, we offer a warning to you all, dear readers. Never upset a duck. You never know who he might turn out to be.


	7. Return To Hardluck Hotel

_A/N: I've wanted to see this episode since I was about six or seven years old. That's right; I've waited for over twenty years to:_

* * *

**Return To Hardluck Hotel**

* * *

_**Cactus **__**Beach. A**__**n ideal holiday location turned sunless and dreary in the off-season, beset by one storm after another.**_

_**Amidst the grey monsoonal rain clouds a neon sign blinks like a beacon for the bargain hunter. Dirty, outdated and rundown, dwarfed by its more modern comrades stands a singularly gloomy and sinister hotel.**_

_**For the lone figure in a yellow raincoat, the blinking letters high above had an entirely new meaning.**_

* * *

**A D UCK HOTEL**

Duckula looked up at the neon sign at the top of the familiar building. Some of the letters had fallen off. "Hmm, 'A Duck Hotel'. A good name, I like it." He stepped in through the doors, brushing droplets of water everywhere as he went. The foyer was dull and plain, just as it had been the last time he'd been here.

"Ah, I remember you, Dogsbody, wasn't it?" It was a beat, as Duckula fought the urge to correct the tall man with the pointed moustache. At least he remembered him.  
"Ah, yes, sir. Is- er, Grinder still around?"  
The manager gestured back behind the counter. "Right here." The dog growled at Duckula.  
"Oh, my, aren't you looking ... healthy?" Duckula smiled at the guest-eating dog, and then looked up at the manager. "Let me guess: plenty of complaints?"

"Have you come for another room sir, or are you just here to make an untidy puddle in the foyer?" With his long legs, the manager raced back behind the desk and looked into the reservations book. "I don't see your booking, and we're all booked out at the moment, sir. It is the weekend, you know."

"Oh, no. No-no. No room, actually I want the kitchen job back."  
"Well, that ... that's entirely different." The manager gestured to him to come back behind the counter with him. "Right this way!" They went through the door.

* * *

"Hello, Gloria." Duckula said, tentatively approaching the old waitress in the black and white outfit as they set about making dinner for the guests.

"I didn't think I'd see you again." She said in some surprise. "Pass me that stack of plates."

"Uh ..." Duckula searched for the right words to appeal to her as he brought over the stack of serving plates and began helping her dish out according to the table orders. "Look, I know we got off to a bad start last time." He frowned. "But maybe we could start again? We could be almost friends at least."  
"Almost friends?"  
"Yeah, that'd be nice." He smiled at her. "Could we try for that?"

She shrugged. "Beats me. Sure, why not."

* * *

In the reception, very early the next morning, a guest was checking out.

"This has simply been the worst hotel that I have ever slept at. Do you know who I am?"  
"Want to make a complaint?"  
"A complaint? What the heck do you think that was, huh? I'll get this out into the public on how you treat your guests! You'll never work in this town again."  
"Hear that, Grinder? A complaint."

"I see, Mr. Grinder, your complaints department, eh?" The customer turned away as Grinder appeared, growling hungrily.

* * *

It didn't take Duckula long to settle back into being the go-fer.

Early, but not so bright considering the permanently dreary weather, Duckula collected the morning newspapers. He first brought them around the side of the building to the kitchen and opened each of them out on the large empty preparation space. He pulled a wad of newspaper from out of his vest pocket. Carefully, the vampire duck replaced the finance page with the one in his hand.  
"I'm going to make my luck turn around." He carefully folded each of the newspapers back down and tidied them back up into pristine condition. They looked just like nobody had opened them up yet. Satisfied, he took them up into his arms, went back out of the alley door, and then around the side to the front door. Having done his job and 'collected' the newspapers, he stepped into the lobby.

* * *

Duckula yelped, watching Grinder savagely ripping through a guest. The newspapers tumbled to the floor and he had rushed halfway across the room before he realised he was too late to save the guest.

Blood. The room smelt of blood. It pooled and splattered everywhere as Grinder made good his name and finished off the guest. Duckula was a mixture of emotions as he stood there horrified, helpless yet so hungry, watching the spectacle.

"Dogsbody, clean up this mess before any guests come down, won't you?"  
"You ..." Duckula said in a daze, "but that wasn't something ... you shouldn't ... It was just a complaint!"  
"Get going! Or do you want to make a complaint too?"  
Duckula stared at Grinder. If he hadn't been hungry coming into this place yesterday afternoon, he certainly was now. 'Focus!' He shook himself before his thoughts went too far. 'Patience'. He calmed down and managed to keep his teeth from lowering. "Do we have enough bleach and cleaners to get rid of the blood?"  
"Yes, here." The manager handed him an entire unopened box. "The delivery comes in every Friday night."

"I ..." Duckula swallowed. "I can see how you go though this stuff." Duckula took the box and left for the cleaning cupboard.

* * *

A half hour later Duckula discovered his breakfast making skills weren't up to scratch this particular morning.

Instead of bacon, all Duckula could smell was the blood still clinging to him from the lobby. It wasn't the same as Von Goosewing's had tasted, it was ... ordinary. He turned the eggs over.  
'Oops', that wasn't right - also, they were burnt. 'Darn, I've made the griddle too hot'. He shrugged and wedged them off, putting them on a nearby serving platter and put the cover on it.

"What's the matter with you, Ducky?" Gloria asked, stepping up beside him.  
"I can't smell anything but the ..." He stepped away from the cooker. "Gloria, Grinder ate someone."  
"Oh, and you had to clean it up. All that bleach does get a bit up your nose."  
"It's not the bleach!" Duckula insisted, turning the sausages. "It's the blood that's still bothering me."  
"Which guest was it?"

"Well I didn't get to meet him. He was an actor of sorts. He was an ordinary person. He wasn't evil, he was just upset. He certainly didn't deserve to die."  
"Actor? Not ..." Gloria's normally lack lustre eyes opened wide in horror. "The monster!" She shrieked and started crying, she sank to the floor in front of the griddle cooker.  
"G-Gloria, hey ..." Duckula fretted, kneeling on the floor beside her. "Gloria, I'm so sorry ..."

"He ..." She sobbed. "He was my ..." She grabbed Duckula into a miserable hug. "I hate those two." She whispered into his ear. "They're so evil."  
"Don't say hate; you'd miss them if they were gone, wouldn't you?"  
The elderly maid laughed weakly as she let go of him. "You're so naive. I don't know how you survive in this world, Ducky. Next time, one of those evil things out there, perhaps Grinder himself will come after you. And then what are you going to do?"

He blushed, "I ... I'm not ..."  
She stood up, collecting herself. "Grow up, Ducky. Before your naivety kills you too." She grabbed the wedge and dumped the rest of the food on the last of the serving plates. "Life's not all cherries and roses. In fact, it's usually just the smell of scorched feathers and stale blood. If you don't stop them, they'll stop you."

She loaded up her cart, blinking away the last of her tears and stonily wheeled it out.

* * *

Igor sat in the silence of his hotel room, opening to the contents page of his new book.

"Most peculiar." He muttered staring at the empty page. "I have purchased an authentic dark tome from a cut price bookstore." He flicked through the rest of the book. It was blank to the naked eye. "Excellent. This shall prove invaluable."

* * *

Duckula was in the kitchen, madly chopping up vegetables, swirling them up into a huge saucepan. He pulled open the cooler room's door, looking into the cold room. "Oh my gosh; I can't do it." He slammed the door. "That does it, there's no dinner for tonight."

Behind him Grinder was growling.  
Duckula spun around. "Be reasonable, Grinder!" He quacked, backing quickly up. He hit the cooler room's door. "There's no meat in the locker, and if there's no meat there's no ... meat goulash. Of course!" He smiled as the answer came to him.

"Get it ... Gloria?" He called out as she stepped across the kitchen from the hot water urn that she'd been filling up. "We need Grinder to help us make the meat ghoul-ash."  
"Yeah, I get it..." He saw her on the other side of Grinder and she drew out a meat cleaver from the chopping block.  
"Who's a good boy, then?" Duckula cooed at the savage beast. "Grinder's a good boy, isn't he? You eat all the complaining guests. That's right, you're a good boy. Here, Grinder, Grinder. Just a little bit closer, Grinder. Come on, good boy, Grinder, I just want to see you properly, come on now, yes, that's it."

From the other side of the room, Gloria hurled the meat cleaver. It flew through the air and with a single short yelp from the target, blood sprayed across the room.  
The smell of it set Duckula's nerves on edge and he vaulted across the room to the source of it. "Oh, yum! Blood!"

* * *

Duckula stood up from his long awaited breakfast and found Gloria standing there, staring at him. He covered his beak. "Uh ... s-sorry?"

She eyed him, and then looked down. "Well, that's a bonus, there's no more blood so we're not gonna make too much more mess getting rid of the body." She looked back up at him. "I wouldn't have picked that. I thought you were just weird, I didn't think the reason for it was that big. Now I understand why, I think you do a pretty good job at trying to be normal like the rest of us." She hesitated. "I actually hugged you. Were you hungry then?"  
"I've been hungry for days." He answered dismissively. "Now are you going to help me fix this?" He complained. "This is all new to me in this life."

"Well, time to learn, little Ducky." She shrugged, looking again to his beak. "Little vampire."

* * *

Nanny and Igor sat at the dining table surrounded by other guests. After a few mouthfuls, Nanny looked down at her bowl of goulash. "Mr. Igor, does this taste a bit odd to you?"

"Remarkably fresh. Quite delicious, I am surprised. 'Chef's special ghoul-ash'." He looked up as the middle aged waitress passed by their table. "Excuse me, who can I go to, to get the recipe for this ghoul-ash?"

"Uh ..." The waitress's beak twitched. "Uh, you'd better ask the chef."

* * *

The rather harried manager walked into the dining room. The guests were just finishing their desserts. He stepped up to the stage where the magician was currently juggling balls.

"Dogsbody. Have you seen Grinder today?"

"The name is Aluckud. Watch me disappear these balls ..." He dropped the balls into the hat, and then he twirled the wand inside the hat and tapped the brim. He showed the audience the empty hat before putting it back on the table. "Hocus pocus, kalamazoo!" He pulled a bunch of flowers out of the hat. "All it needed was a good stir or two." He put the hat on his head and bowed as the audience clapped. He pulled the manager up onto the stage.

"Flotsam jetsam, alacazere. To make all your troubles simply ... disappear!" He dropped a satchel of flour and with the cloud as distraction, he translocated away with the manager.

* * *

They were in the alleyway outside the kitchen.

The manager was puzzled for only a split second before he ignored this new mystery. "... Now, you answer me properly. Where is Grinder?"  
"One might say he's joined the audience," Duckula quirked flatly. "Oh, and I'm buying this hotel."  
"What?" The manager scoffed in disbelief. "I'm not selling it."  
"I thought someone like you in the reception area was a bit hokey." Duckula crossed his arms. "So you are the owner of the hotel."

"I'll fix you." He called out. "Here, Grinder!"  
Duckula moved over to the rubbish bin and lifted the lid. "Oh, you mean this 'ere Grinder?" He pulled out a bag of bones and tossed it, rattling into the other's hands. "Very tasty, if the blood was any judge of the meat." Duckula licked his beak. "Oh, dear, now I've forgotten our conversation. I think we were talking about ... dinner?" He grinned, approaching the manager, sweeping his cape up in front, hiding his beak for dramatic pose.

"Uh, no, no-no!" The manager gestured with his hands in front of him.  
Duckula halted and let his cape drop to his sides, but kept his eyes locked on the manager.  
"We ... you were saying you wanted to buy the hotel."  
"Oh, that's right, how silly of me." Duckula grinned at him for a long moment, retaining the predatory stance. "Your heart is racing." He commented, licking his beak.

Then he took another step...  
"Alright, it's yours!" The manager rushed to the door and pushed it open. "I'll get the paperwork sorted."  
"Why, that's very generous of you, sir." As the other disappeared back inside, Duckula laughed. "Boy, does this beat all?" He licked his beak. "Scare people and get full." He smiled as he looked around the alleyway. "He's certainly fed enough poor people to that beastly dog. And he's swindled enough work and money out of me, that's for sure."

* * *

Duckula pushed his way through the alley door and around the corner back into the kitchen. He looked carefully around, sniffing critically. That morning he'd spilt blood absolutely everywhere...

There was a knock on the door. "Enter." He called out, out of habit, still licking his beak on his remembrance of his breakfast. What a laborious and slightly nerve-wracking task that had turned out to be. Thank goodness Gloria had been there to help him. All the hard work had definitely been worth it in the end, to watch the guest eater served to the guests. On the stage he'd had a front row view of the entire novel epilogue. He chuckled to himself.  
Igor stepped into the room, looking around. "Milord, what are you doing here? I thought you were ..." Igor looked around.  
"Hi, what's the matter, Igor? You look like you've seen a ghost."  
"No it's ... gyah, this horrible room."

A spark of panic flew into Duckula's mind. "What? Where's the mess?" He whipped out the bleach and a rag from the bottom of one of the cabinets. He looked wildly around, and then he looked down at his clothes. Maybe it was himself. He'd bleached and pressed this morning's chef's outfit, but the shower had barely worked to get he himself clean, by far the most horrendous effort ... And of course, no hot water. He shivered.

"How many times have you cleaned this room, sir?"  
"Do you mean today, or since I got here last night?" He started counting on his fingers.  
"The bottle's nearly empty. Your feathers are stained white."  
"Don't panic, that's just flour from the magic act. And I've still got another three bottles left in the service store."  
"I think the kitchen is clean enough, Milord."  
Duckula breathed a sigh of relief and put the bottle back.

"You want more dessert, Igor?"  
"Actually I wanted the ghoul-ash recipe from the chef."  
"You can't make it, he's not here anymore," Duckula quirked, chuckling. There was only one Grinder. "Are you sure you don't want a cup of tea?" He topped up the urn.  
"Milord, what happened to the chef?"  
Duckula blinked. Was he being accused of something here? "What chef? What are you talking about, Igor? Nothing happened to the chef, what made you think that?"  
"Sir, are you alright?"  
"Oh, you keep asking me that question, Igor, I'm fine. I'm having a good day ... for a change. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a private appointment with the manager, so please enjoy the rest of your holiday." He translocated away.

The kitchen was entirely spotless, shining ethereal silver and white to a glare. It gave Igor a headache and he left quickly. "I'd best find out what this is all about."

* * *

Duckula pulled the plug on the phone before the manager could give the address. "Prank callers," he tsked, "raving on about the existence of vampires; of all the fool things."

"I will not be threatened."  
"It is a dog eat dog world." Duckula remarked, deadpan. "Where's your complaints department, anyway?"  
"R-right ... here." The manager twitched under Duckula's gaze.  
"Dog gone." All those hours of listening to the clock's arty jokes made it near impossible for him to stop punning and quirking.

Duckula picked up a spare newspaper on the counter. "Well, would'ya look at that? The Drachma's gone sky high again." He reached and got his money purse. He held it up. "One Thousand Drachmas." The manager's eyes bugged. "Only if you've signed all the release forms, of course."  
The manager took out a wad of paperwork from under the counter and scribbled across half a dozen pages. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, sir!" He shoved the paperwork into Duckula's hands and snatched the purse of money. He grabbed the bag of bones, raced through the lobby and out the front door.

The moment the door swung shut, Duckula burst into a fit of laughter.

"Milord?"  
Duckula recovered, stowing the paperwork in his vest pocket. "Igor, I believe need a new manager."

He reattached the phone, picked up the newspaper and put it promptly in the rubbish bin behind the desk. "I also have a whole bunch of forms to validate with the bank before the blighter drains the bank accounts dry." He called the bank number in the address book. "This is Count Duckula, the new owner of Hardluck Hotel. I have some authority transfer slips, and I need to arrange a meeting this afternoon? Thanks, I'll be right over." He hung up. "Would you mind holding this side down, Igor? It'll be nice for us all not to be so broke anymore."

"Certainly sir. Shall I look for a new manager?"  
"That would be great, Igor, thanks. Make sure you add Gloria to the list. If she's interested, all we'll need is new staff for her to manage."  
"Sir, do you mind telling me how ... you ... managed all this?"  
"Not at all, Igor!" The duck beamed. "It's because I am Count Duckula." He announced proudly and he walked to the front door.

"Sir?"  
Duckula sighed and turned again. "Yes, Igor?"  
"I thought the Drachma crashed yesterday? That's quite a dramatic turnaround."

"Not too dramatic, Igor. Taking the job as the manager's go-fer, I collected the papers this morning and I switched the finance section. I just happened to have kept handy all ten of them from the last time we were here. I'm no financial alligator, but I knew that was the page to keep." He chuckled. "He'll have to wait for the Drachma to come back up again for real before he can use any of my money."

The smile on Duckula's face was broad as he stepped out of the front door. He had turned himself around, his luck was returning, he had finally succeeded at something. At being ... Count Duckula.

* * *

_**And so we end as we began. **_

_**As a lone figure makes his way across the dismal boardwalk of dreary **__**Cactus **__**Beach**__**, we say goodnight out there, whatever you are.**_

* * *

_A/N: Happy birthday, and may all your carefully laid plans come to fruition with all your hard work and just that right bit of luck you need!_


	8. The Vampire Awakes

**The Vampire Awakes**

* * *

**Nestled in the valley and cast into shadow by the monstrosity that is Castle Duckula rests the forever sleepy Transylvanian village.**

**Sleepy, that is, but for the horse and carriage clattering noisily down the mainstreet.**

* * *

"Oh, what a pretty little village!" Emily exclaimed as she stepped down with her large carry on bag. The driver flicked the reigns and the carriage did a U turn and left.

"Now, what am I looking for?" She cast her eyes around the cobbled square. "A big house." She picked a direction and headed that way. This way and that, everything was just timeless. Flowers in the window boxes, Shutters on the windows, garlic strung up with the curtains ...

"Garlic?" Emily frowned to herself. "A bit superstitious ... it'd certainly never stop me if I wanted in." She got to the outskirts of the village without a sign of a large house. "Well, bother." She sighed, "I'm fed up with all this running around." She came back to the town square where the carriage had dropped her off, and this time noticed the _Ye Tooth and Jugular_ inn. "It's not a very big place, this village," she remarked, looking around the square again.

* * *

"They can't get a lot of trouble here." She pushed open the door of the inn and stepped inside. "I feel safer all ..." The noisy pub fell into a sudden hush. "... ready." All eyes were on Emily in her plain brown travelling clothes. 'They mustn't get a lot of visitors.' She reasoned.

Emily cast her eyes over the non-vampire patrons. There was no Von Ganderak, so in her books this was great news.

She stepped up to the bar. "I'm looking ..." she sniffed the air for a clue as to what the others were drinking. "... For some warm root beer, and if it's not too much trouble, some information."  
"We ..." The innkeeper flinched. "We're all out ... outta ..." She gazed more intently at him. No way had she survived this many months on the run to be cut down by some little innkeeper and she opened her aura field to let him feel it. "... out the ... back there's some more-gimme a moment."  
"Thank you."

Emily turned to review the clientele. This whole village was like stepping into history. She looked from one patron to the next, inwardly shuddering.

'When did that guy last bath? ... I'm cleaner than he is and he lives in a proper house while I sleep in haystacks! ... Have these people never heard of soap? ... Yee-ugh!'

She finally concluded they were all in various states of unkemptness below her meal standards. 'This is certainly not a place I'd like to get hungry.' She reviewed her health and sighed in relief that she was okay at the moment. 'I better try to keep myself healthy in this place or I really will be unhealthy!' Emily turned back to the bar. 'It was certainly worth the money preserving my energy and taking a carriage ride instead of flying in. That definitely would've made me hungry for a snack.'

The bartender returned, handing her the mug of warm root beer.  
"Lovely, thank you." Emily took a quick sip and sighed. "That's better."

"What brings a ..." the innkeeper swallowed, no doubt still feeling her presence. It wasn't enough to stop him for too long, however, and he carried on after a moment, "... uh, a dame like you 'round these 'ere parts?"  
"I've been told there's a vampire what lives 'round these 'ere parts." She answered, automatically mimicking his accent and then took another gulp of her drink.  
"Ach, yer not talking about ... 'im up yonder?"  
Emily blinked. "Pardon? Up where?"  
"Up in thar castle."  
"Castle Duckula." The villagers pointed to the window.

"Oh, blood." Emily cursed and carried her mug to the table beside the window. She stared through the dusty square window panes up at the castle, in obvious full looming view. "Oh-'eck't's-yuge!" She squawked and took a large swig of the warm drink, now wishing it tasted very differently because she could've done with a bit of the other stuff. "Where's-my-blooming-courage-gone?" She cursed herself and took another swig of the refreshment.

Then it occurred to her to ask her audience the personality she would be facing once she got to the castle. "Hey, fellahs, what's the count like? Is he noice? Is he all stuffy? Is he got a temper or what?"

The pub was silent back at her for a moment. Apparently she wasn't alone in the search for courage.  
"Well, you said it."  
"You mean; 'im up there?"  
"Yes, 'im up there." Emily confirmed, patiently acknowledging the mixed levels of intelligence and high level of nervous tension in the crowded room. "Is 'e noice?"  
"He's a ..."  
"... Vampoire."  
"If you value yer life, yeh'll never go out at night."  
"You never know when 'e might strike."  
"He'll take you and bite yeh neck and ..."

Emily gaped at their terror. "You make it sound like it were your population what's dwindling! And I'll tell yer plainly it ain't! There's plenty 'o 'ouses down here and there's plenty 'o you in 'em, an' 'e's been there a great while longer 'en you, so what's that say aboat 'im then?" She glared hotly at them.

Emily put the mug to her beak and drained her mug of the dregs, attempting to drown her hunger inspiring temper. She looked down at the bottom of the mug, finding her calm again. "What a backwards lot you are." She put down her empty mug. "Fancy livin' out here, all alone, with just you lot to be scared o' 'im." She paced towards the bar and dropped a few drachmas.

"Now I must be off to meet this Count. He's probably gone crazy for company, is all what it is that's the matter with 'im." She grabbed up her carry bag and presented the innkeeper with another couple of drachmas. "If you please, sir. I require an empty bedroom with a locking door for ten minutes, and a jug of unused water with a basin? Please?"  
"A room for ten minutes?" He repeated.

"It's already on nightfall and I ain't goin' up no hill to visit no count vampoire lookin' like Enrietta Scarecrow." She scoffed. "Cor blimey. I ain't got no pedigree so I gotta at least look edible."  
He stared at her for a moment. "Up the stairs, first door to the right."  
"Cheers, keep." She dropped the coins on the counter and waited for him to present her with the jug.  
She snatched it and headed for the stairs.

"Did you want a mirror?" He called after her. "Coz ..."  
Emily paused on the stair and turned back to him. "What the heck for? This isn't a magic act; I'm just cleaning myself up. And even if it were I'd be covered in tomatoes for my trouble coz I can't do magic anyway." She snorted and continued up the stairs with her bag over her shoulder and the jug in her hands.

* * *

Duckula returned to the Castle alone after insisting that Igor and Nanny continue their holiday. After his nice hot bubble bath combined with the self inflicted torture session with the scrubbing brush he felt almost comfortable in his own feathers again.

He sat down in front of his desk but didn't get the chance to find his concentration again when there was a knock on the door. "Oh, well." He shrugged and went downstairs to find out what they wanted this time.

* * *

Duckula gaped at the young lady duck standing there. 'Wow-ee!'

Her straight raven hair glinted in the silvery moonlight, her eyes were crystal blue. Her grey and white plumage was preened to glossy perfection. Her sequinned navy dress finished the look perfectly. Yes, the count could see her performing an aria on Eurobirdvision, and he'd have rung in his vote for her despite having the TV on mute.

He blinked and looked away as quickly as he could unfreeze himself and belatedly observe social etiquette. She was too beautiful and he didn't feel very clean anymore. He looked at his fingers, recalling the almost-Nanny-intense scrubbing he'd given himself not half an hour earlier.

"Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if you could help me. My name is Emily Artisia."

"I think you've come to the wrong place, Miss Artisia. This is Castle Duckula." 'Vampires don't help people,' his thoughts added on as he tried to keep his gaze from her neck, shocked in himself to suddenly find it a problem after so many years of not looking at necks, 'they eat them.'  
"Please, sir. I am looking for Count Duckula. I'm told a Count Duckula lives here."  
"Well, how about that." He moved aside from the door to allow her entry. "I guess I 'can' help you."  
"You 'can'?" She stared hopeful at him through the doorway with her wide innocent looking eyes.  
"As it just so happens: I 'am' Count Duckula." He bowed.

"Oh, at last!" She pushed past him, and a gleam of suspicion arose in his mind as as she faced away from him. He watched her gazing around at the great hall in all its tragic despair. 'Is this the slayer Scotland Yard had sent, perhaps? About time. Put me out of my misery.' He swung the large door shut, noticing absently how much easier moving big things seemed to be nowadays.

The woman duck turned back to him, a stricken look on her face. "I'm being chased."  
"Oh? So you just want a place to hide." The count was surprised at how disappointed his voice sounded that she wasn't a vampire hunter. "Well, there are plenty of rooms here." He repeated the tired line without any enthusiasm and held his hand out for her bag. He slung it over his shoulder and passed her, heading for the staircase. "I'll get one set up for you."

'At this rate," he thought to himself, remembering the countless people that had wended their way up Transylvania Avenue over the years, 'perhaps I should consider charging flat fees for rent?'


End file.
